Winter Nights, Warm Hearts
by timimige
Summary: For so long, all Norway's ever done was reject every one of his advances. Denmark, however, is far from ready to give up. Viking-ish AU.


" _It is only with the heart that one can see clearly, for the most essential things are invisible to the eye. _"

**-H.C. Andersen**

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><p>For years, Denmark has done everything he could think of to capture Norway's volatile heart. He's tried giving him everything he could; coins, expensive blades, warm furs, even pretty little charms that served no use or purpose, but never ceased to entertain the eye; yet somehow, Norway's rejected him every time, with little or no variance in his responses. What he wanted from him, Denmark didn't know. The Norwegian always plays like that, and expects nothing less than for Denmark to change along with his whims on a moment's notice, something more difficult than navigating the seas on a starless night. It's frustrating, difficult, and seems even more hopeless as the days went by, but it's a challenge Denmark welcomes nonetheless, because he knows that he's going to win someday.<p>

If anything, he's learned everything he needs for tonight through trial, error, and rejection

Still, his confidence wavers as he approaches Norway's home, a humble, small building that's isolated in the woods and meant only for a single man, nothing more. He bites the chapped bottom of his lip, taking quick, deep breaths and touches the leather sack tied to his waist for reassurance, praying to the gods that he wouldn't mess up.

Those hopes fall as soon as he reaches the entrance.

Standing in the doorway with the light of a warm fire radiating behind him, Norway's arms are crossed tightly, eyes narrowed and glaring at Denmark, as if he could repel him with a single look; if he could, Denmark thought, he would've been long gone, dumped into a cold forest in Sweden or Norway where he would be as far away as Norway wanted him.

"May I come in?" Denmark offers him a genuine smile, but gets nothing in return except for a faint _tsk_ and a shake of Norway's head.

"What do you want now?" As tall, pale, and blond as Norway is, he looks nothing less than intimidating. In a way, he was like the wily _jötnar_, both lovely and terrifying in all his solemn beauty. "You know my answer already." he deadpans, dark blue eyes blinking twice as he looks Denmark up and down. His lips become a thin line and already, he's retreating back into his home, but Denmark doesn't let that discourage him.

"I just wanted to give you a gift. A few, actually." He smiles again, gesturing to his pouch, and unties the string before Norway could refuse. A few seconds in, and his hands are shaking as he jerks the string one last time. He takes another deep breath for good luck, and without further hesitation, produces the dried flowers from his sack, a small bundle of heather that still smells musky, pungent, and pleasing, just as if they had been fresh picked from the fields. This time, Denmark moves without hesitation and holds the flowers out for Norway, who only raises an eyebrow in reply.

"What's the point of this?" Despite his words, Norway takes the gift and brings them up to his nose, sniffing their scent quickly before shifting them into his other hand, attention wandering back to Denmark. That was all the encouragement he needs. He reaches into the pouch and pulls out the second present, a silver arm ring, and watches in satisfaction as Norway's eyes widen, forming an expression that doesn't fit the familiar contours of his slim face - surprise.

"They're offerings." Denmark explains, beaming when Norway nods and reaches for the present. Their fingers, both callused and worn from work and battle, brush against each other as he takes the ring, and Denmark feels himself hum with pleasure as he sees Norway run his thumb over the intricate carvings. He looks at Denmark, and the Dane begins to speak again, hasty words coming out far louder than he intended for them to. "Can you put it on?"

They're both silent as Norway slides his hand through the armlet and pulls it up to his forearm, securing it with a small push and grunt. His gaze remains on the piece of jewellery, though, and Denmark can only hope that Norway is admiring it and not secretly laughing on the inside.

"Did you make it?" is all Norway says after a long minute, his gaze transfixed on the grooves and ridges of the runes in the silver.

"I had some help. The design was my idea." Trying his luck and hoping that he isn't going too far with this, Denmark grins at Norway and is surprised to see the ghost of a smile dancing on the Norwegian's lips as well, something he instantly decides is wonderful and a treasure for his memory. He keeps going, pressing his luck for as long as he could before it ran out. "I still have one more thing for you, if you're willing to accept it." he offers, fingers rubbing against the sack's drawstrings.

"Go on," His steady voice is barely a whisper - Norway stares intently at the movement of Denmark's hands, scrutinising them the way a predator would study its prey, and is completely still as Denmark fishes out the final object from his pouch. For once, he feels as if he has a chance, the opportunity giggling just in front of him, waiting for Denmark to catch it. He takes his time scooping up the last item, making sure to feel the cool, smooth surface of its rounded shape rubbing against his palm, just so he knows that it's there. Then hurrying, he thrusts out his hand, taking care not to drop it, and finally presents the tiny trinket to Norway.

It's a small glass heart, hues of light blue dancing within its vibrant core, and bubbles of darker blues spreading out beyond that like a wildfire, random and bold. He waits for Norway to gasp, to sigh, to _laugh_, but he stays quiet instead, and Denmark suddenly tenses, wondering if he had made some mistake he hadn't been aware of. Perhaps he misjudged Norway's personality. Denmark groans inwardly, realising that he must've been offended by such a silly, pointless gift. It was something you gave women, something that's too sappy for any man, and definitely something Norway wouldn't want.

But eventually, the other country speaks, though his tone returns back to its normal indifference, as if he forgot everything that has happened so far. "You try too hard." he murmurs, making no move to reach out for the gift. The hardness is back in his eyes, no longer softened and blurred by shock or emotions, and Denmark struggles to find the right words to reply with.

"Because you try even harder to reject me." Exhaling, Denmark closes his hand around the heart, resisting his habit of squeezing things out of sheer restlessness. He's so close. _So _close, and so close to failing.

"Then you're a fool for persisting." Norway nods at Denmark, head tilting to the side as he regards him with a strange mix of amusement and exasperation."You're not going to give up, are you?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes, and his arms cross against his chest once more, just as unwelcoming as they had been before.

"Of course not. I wouldn't be able to live with the humiliation," His nervous reflexes kicking in, Denmark laughs awkwardly and tries to ignore the powerful urge to spurt out more nonsensical stutterings to fill the silence. "I just can't accept losing."

If he were honest, Denmark doesn't know _why_ he's so attracted to Norway. The country's fit and fair, of course, and he has the highest cheekbones Denmark's ever seen on any person or country. But perhaps, he thinks, after seeing Norway smile that one time during the New Year's when he had been saddled with too much mead and celebration, Denmark just knew, somehow, that he had to see it again.

That's the truth in his heart, and the truth he seeks to believe.

Norway's presses a finger to his lip, his thoughts unfathomable to Denmark as he looks him over another time more,careful now, and so much slower. His reply is sealed when he reaches out and pries apart Denmark's wide fingers, cold from exposure to the night air, and picks up the heart with two of his own. Eyes half lidded, Norway presses the object against his chest, and finally, after so many trials and even more errors, parts his half-smiling mouth to speak the words Denmark had been waiting for him to say since they met.

"I guess that means I'll have to accept you instead."

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><p><strong>Sappy fic I wrote for a secret santa exchange, right before I kinda left the Tumblr life. I hope you guys enjoy!~<strong>

**-mimi**


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